


Okay

by happytappyteen



Category: Mr. Robot (TV)
Genre: ABA, Bisexual Male Character, Friendship/Love, Gay Male Character, Lesbian Character of Color, M/M, Muslim Character, Other, Trans Male Character, autistic characters, stim buddies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-21
Updated: 2016-08-21
Packaged: 2018-08-10 01:33:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7825039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/happytappyteen/pseuds/happytappyteen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They're going to be just fine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Okay

Autistic Elliot who was diagnosed as a child and his mother hated him even more for it. Who was forced into ABA and subsequently grew up having frequent meltdowns during which he couldn’t stim because she would hold his wrists together. He could only scream and bite. Who still has scars.

Elliot who dared not voice the overwhelming joy that flowed through him like cool fresh water after a long thirst at the mere sight of a computer, but it was still there. Coding saved him. When he woke in the night on the verge of a panic attack he’d tiptoe as best he could to his father’s office, squish himself against the plastic arm of the desk chair, and spin it gently, side to side. The soft bluish glow of the screen, the click of the keys, the blink-blink-blink of the cursor lulling him back to sleep. In the morning his back would be stiff, but it was worth it.

Elliot who sits in a cold prison cell lacking entirely in space or warmth or color and he dreams that when he’s thirty years old he’ll be out and have all of those things. That if he wakes again in the night he won’t even have to get out of bed to calm down. That he will be in bed with him with just the right amount of weight and smooth beads in his hair and that familiar gentle voice saying “cuz, I’m here. You’re okay.” But if that doesn’t work there’s Flipper on the bed too, with her soft fur and leathery nose, and Qwerty’s tank on the desk singing a mechanical lullaby, and a laptop across the room, waiting full of paper-folding videos. Just so, creased right down the middle, corner to corner, like they used to do at Allsafe.

Autistic Trenton who didn’t receive a diagnosis until she was twenty. Who, when she was young, wondered why she loved observing hijab so much. Not for the sense of pride in religion it gave her, but why hair was greasy and dirty and made her itch while fabric was cool and soft and patterned. Who was told she had opinions too strong for a child of six. Who loved the feeling of pressure against her skin, and constantly wore tight jeans, flannels buttoned to her collarbone, combat boots laced all the way up. Who put her shoes on the wrong feet and had terrible handwriting but excelled at ballet, who rarely spoke. But that’s the way girls are supposed to be, right? Small talk is useless, amirite? No?

Trenton who started school a year late. Who would curl up under her desk when things were too much and hug herself. Who got called into the disability office as a freshman in college after one of her teachers read through report card notes from previous years. Ms. Chalkman had long black hair and blue eyes like the sky that she would stare into as long as they weren’t making contact with hers. Cleared her throat and spoke.

“Have you ever considered that you are autistic?”

“No, but it would explain everything.”

“Indeed.”

Trenton who finally made sense to herself, at least in terms of brain stuff. Girls, particularly Darlene, were another story. But she would figure it out one day that she’s a lesbian.

Autistic Leon who was never diagnosed. Whose parents didn’t feel the need for it and took pride in his differences. Who unabashedly clapped and hopped and squealed at even the word “Seinfeld”, a lifelong special interest to this day. Who took all the BS he got from being a black disabled trans man in stride and flapped it away.

(Yes, friend, you read that right.) Autistic trans Leon for whom top surgery is unnecessary because he likes wearing his binders for pressure stimming. Who channels all the anger at bigots into his work with the Dark Army and protests and is okay when he gets arrested because Elliot is there and oh, he’s also gay and in love.

Leon who shares his hoodies and dreams with Elliot and holds him through morphine withdrawal. Leon whose rage for once gets the best of him when his best friend is assaulted, who has a meltdown that results in death. Deserved death. They both cry afterwards.

Leon, a human with the soul of his namesake, who has learned to love himself despite growing up in a world that wants the opposite, doing his best to spread that love to the people he cares about.

Three queer autistic adults of color in this weird polyamorous thing consisting of two friendships and one romantic relationship. Who arrange days a few times a month to lay on the couch and cuddle and infodump and stim at each other. Who grew up in entirely different backgrounds but all met in a place better than before. Who find solace in each other. It’s messy and strange and beautiful and they wouldn’t want it any other way.


End file.
